


Nightmares and Dreams

by DreaminginCabeswater



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Blood, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Physical Abuse, Shock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-04-01 02:07:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4001839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreaminginCabeswater/pseuds/DreaminginCabeswater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ronan appears outside St. Agnes on a rain soaked night, covered in mud, devastated.  Can Adam help him carry the burden or will he sink with it? Adam makes a surprising realization in the process.  Pynch angst and fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmares and Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a one shot focusing on my adorkable boys and rain and fluff. What can I say? It got away from me. It turned into angst. I apologize in advance for any mistakes I made translating English into Latin. (I don't know a lick of Latin. Google helped me.) The last part of the story made me tear up as I was writing it... brace yourself. 
> 
> Disclaimer: The Raven Boys belong to Maggie Stiefvater. I just took them out to play.

Adam Parrish sprawled out on his mattress, one foot hanging over one side, a hand sticking off the other side, unable to get in a comfortable position. He just couldn’t sleep. The room stuffy, then freezing. The soft patter of rain against the window and roof comforting, then a cacophony that reverberated in his head and chest. The dark a living, breathing entity, then the lightening illuminating more than his shitty furnishings. He felt like screaming into his pillow. Adam tossed and turned more, his softly worn sheets tangling around his body, twisting his T-shirt around his waist, causing even more discomfort. With a groan, Adam yanked at the sheets until they came free, then he flipped to his back with a sigh.   
  
Adam watched the rickety ceiling fan blades swirl against the white popcorned ceiling and wondered if counting sheep would lull him to sleep. He unsuccessfully tried it once as a child. He ended up staying up all night counting little puffs of white wool. However, now, Adam worried Cabeswater would take the request quite literally, and he would end up with a tiny apartment filled with bleating sheep. He snickered imagining the sight and the following escapade of trying to explain the scene to the office manager. He could see her brown eyes widen and her mouth shape into a red-slicked “O.” He chuckled again.  
  
 Adam thought better of sheep, and counted each rotation of the fan, hoping the dark swirl and accompanying rush of air would soothe him to sleep.  
  
 _One_  
  
 _Maybe I should call Gansey. I bet he’s up._  
  
 _Two_  
  
 _Uhhh… maybe not._  
  
 _Five_  
  
 _I wonder what Blue is doing?_  
  
 _Six_  
  
 _No, Adam. Do not go there._  
  
 _Seven_  
  
 _Cabeswater…_  
  
 _Eight_  
  
 _NO! Don’t go there either, Parrish._  
  
 _Twenty_  
  
 _I’m sure Lynch is out destroying something._  
  
 _Forty-Five_  
  
 _Destroying something with Ronan would be better than this._  
  
 _Forty-Six_  
  
 _Hell, the shopping cart would be better than this._  
  
 _Ninety-nine_  
  
“Fuck this.” Adam threw his covers off and plunked his feet on the floor with a thud and headed to the bathroom to pee.  
  
After flushing the toilet, Adam washed his hands, splashing cool water on his face and taking a deep drink from the faucet. He was a mess. Adam could see the dark circles under his eyes like bruises.   
  
_Never again. No more bruises._   
  
Switching off the bathroom light, he wished he could sleep. Instead, he shuffled past his mattress to the tiny window against the far wall of his minuscule home and looked down. St. Agnes at night was like a gargoyle. Shades of black and gray and menacing lines. The soft sprinkle of rain had increased to a torrential downpour. The streets were dark and quiet, and fast currents of water raced against curbs. Adam curled up against the window, one foot on the sill, the other on the cold floor. His breath fogged the glass, and he wiped it away with the heel of his hand.   
  
Adam’s eyes squinted against a flash of blue-white light as lightening streaked across the inky sky. Quickly after, a loud boom rattled his small apartment.   
  
Another explosion of light and sound. This time, something on the street caught his eye. A tall, narrow man hunched forward, hands in his pockets.  

_Greywaren,_ Cabeswater whispered.  
  
He narrowed his eyes, almost pressing his nose to the window pane, trying to make out the figure, but couldn’t just quite. Another tumble of light proved Adam’s suspicions. What the hell was Ronan doing on the street outside St. Agnes, in the pouring rain, at two in the morning?   
  
Adam hastily pulled on his shoes and a hooded sweatshirt and ran down the narrow stairs, taking them two at a time. He flung open the back door to St. Agnes.   
  
Ronan was standing across the street, his head hunched into the upturned lapels of his biker jacket, hands crammed in his jean pockets, watching the water course by, his eyebrows furrowed.   
  
“Lynch!” Adam called over the roar of the thunderstorm, standing in the door of St. Agnes.  
  
Ronan didn’t move. Something was wrong. Adam bolted into the storm, pulling his hood up as he ran across the street without a second thought.   
  
“Lynch, what the hell?”   
  
Adam reached Ronan, but he never looked up. His face was pale, ashen, water dripping off his stately Roman nose. His dark clothes soaked and stained with mud and some other dark substance. Adam circled his hands around Ronan’s upper arms, the biceps tense, almost rigid.  
  
“Ronan?” Adam shouted over the rain.   
  
Ronan looked up finally. His normally molten blue eyes were solid, distant. Adam thought he saw a single tear drop slide down Ronan’s cheek, but it could have been the rain. Adam couldn’t tell, but his heart still turned over in his chest, anger warring with sadness. What was going on? What could have turned wild, warrior Ronan, this savagely handsome man, into a shell of his former self? He wanted to beat the shit out of whoever or whatever did this.  
  
Adam leaned in closer to Ronan, blinking through the rain peppering his face.   
  
“What happened, Ronan?”   
  
Ronan shook his head, a slight, stubborn movement. Adam knew he would coax the story out of Ronan if he had to; he needed to know who did this to Ronan. The intensity of the need surprised him.   
  
“Tell me who did this, Ronan.” Adam was insistent, but Ronan would only stare out into nothing.  
  
He would have to wait for now. Adam knew that Ronan needed him, needed him in a way that Gansey wouldn’t be able to help him, in a way that Gansey wouldn’t be able to understand. Adam knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that was why Ronan was standing outside St. Agnes in the rain and not inside a warm and dry Monmouth Manufacturing.   
  
A memory of a night blurred across Adam’s mind: a fall, a sting, an unnatural quiet, a spinning, a punch, red and blue flashing lights, and a cereal box with a Transformer sticking over the top. Ronan had taken care of him in a way that only Ronan could have, now it was Adam’s turn.  
  
“Come on, let’s get you out of the rain.”   
  
Adam placed a strong arm around Ronan’s shoulders. Ronan felt small and delicate - two words Adam never thought he would ever use to describe his friend - against him. Ronan leaned into him, his head tilted against Adam’s head, and obligingly followed.   
  
Back in the insignificant apartment, Adam gently guided Ronan to the edge of his bed, ignoring how wet and muddy the sheets would be afterward. They weren’t very kind to him earlier anyways. He guided Ronan’s arms out of his jacket.   
  
“Be right back,” Adam said, rushing to the bathroom for towels.  
  
Adam turned the corner back to his bed, his only two towels lodged under an elbow, and kicked off his squishy shoes. Ronan hadn’t moved. Adam placed a towel around Ronan’s shoulders and bent down in front of him, untying his muddy boots, pulling each off, tossing them toward the tiled floor at the front door.    
  
“What happened?” Adam asked, his voice hushed, looking into Ronan’s eyes. The lifeless quality to them disturbed Adam.    
  
Ronan only shook his head again.   
  
Adam sighed. He knew Ronan could be stubborn, but this was a new Ronan. A Ronan that Adam wanted to care for. Huddle around and keep away the nightmares. A Ronan that scared him because Ronan was not weak. He was strong. Adam blinked as realization sat in. Ronan was his strength, his constant. How had he never seen it before? Now the understanding was too much, a red hand print across his face, a sting across his conscious. Ronan could not be broken, it was impossible, yet, here he was appearing not just broken, but mangled. Icy fear flooded Adam’s veins. If Ronan could be broken, it was inevitable that he would follow suit.   
  
Adam resisted the urge to shake Ronan and tell him to snap out of it. Instead, he stood up and pulled the towel over Ronan’s head, drying droplets of water off his face, the little shimmering crystals that hung on Ronan’s long, dark lashes, and speckled his skin and hair. Adam wanted to tell him everything was okay, that it would all be fine, but he knew that was a lie and Ronan did not appreciate lies. He chose to speak the truth and only the truth. It was what Ronan needed.  
  
“I’m here,” Adam said, making sure Ronan saw in his eyes and heard in his voice the truth of the statement. The heaviness it promised.   
  
Adam turned around and slid a drawer out from the plastic bin next to his bed, searching for clean clothes. He pulled out two sets of pajama pants, worn T-shirts, and boxers. He handed a stack of clothes to Ronan.  
  
“Think you could change?” Adam’s voice was soft, gentle. He didn’t trust himself to speak above a whisper. His new found knowledge was crushing. How far did his feelings for Ronan travel? Just earlier tonight, he found him a friend, but now… Adam took a shaky breath, steadying himself.  
  
Ronan nodded. He stood in an almost mechanical way, each movement slow and restrained, not the usual fluid arc that Ronan had. He peeled off his wet shirt, dropping it at his feet with a sucking sound. Adam turned around and quickly stripped the wet clothes from his body. He could have changed in the bathroom, but he didn’t want to leave Ronan alone.   
  
“Decent?” Adam asked, still facing away.  
  
Ronan made a grunt of approval. Adam knew things were bad when he didn’t have one of his usual sarcastic comebacks. He turned around. Ronan was just standing where Adam left him, looking lost, Adam’s gray T-shirt riding up at his waist, exposing a sliver of pale skin, his hands hanging by his sides.   
  
Adam approached Ronan as one might approach a wild animal, slowly and skillfully. He caught his eyes.  
  
“Come with me.” Adam guided Ronan, one hand on his upper arm, to the makeshift kitchenette just the other side of the bathroom.   
  
Adam led Ronan to the chair at his desk. Adam could sense the sadness radiating from Ronan’s every pore. His forlornness made Adam’s stomach clench. It hurt to look at him, but Adam didn’t know how to fix whatever was happening. If he could fix this, maybe Adam would never have to face the fact that he, too, was damaged and needed saving. Adam’s chest felt tight, a small bundle of nerves wrapped around hopelessness. He was starting to understand why Ronan needed to act out when confronted with emotions. Adam, himself, wanted to throw something out of frustration. Instead, thinking better of it, he filled a small electric kettle with water.  
  
“Do you want coffee or hot chocolate?” Adam asked like he always did when Ronan showed up on his doorstep during the night in the throes of insomnia. Ronan shrugged.   
  
Adam felt a pang at not hearing Ronan’s usual response: “What do I look like, dumb ass? A fucking prepubescent little mama’s boy? Coffee, Parrish, always coffee. Black as my soul, coffee. It’s good for the testosterone.”   
  
Adam gave Ronan a half-hearted smile, and excused himself to fix the bed while they waited for the water to boil.  
  
Adam kept looking back around the corner in between stripping muddy, wet sheets and putting on his last pair of clean sheets, to see Ronan still sitting in the chair, not moving except for a slight shiver to his muscles. He looked almost catatonic. Damn. This was bad. Adam was at a loss. He pondered calling Gansey, but Ronan was trusting Adam with this, not Gansey. Oddly, his chest swelled with pride.   
  
Taking a deep breath, Adam reentered the other side of the apartment. He reached out and gripped Ronan’s shoulder, digging his fingers into the taut muscles, giving it a reassuring squeeze before making two cups of coffee. Adam could have sworn he felt Ronan give in to the touch, his muscles relaxing for a split second.  
  
“Here,” Adam said, placing a steaming cup of black coffee into Ronan’s hands. Ronan didn’t make a move to drink it.   
  
Adam pulled up an overturned plastic box and sat at Ronan’s side, letting the steaming coffee, his with sugar, warm his hands. Adam wasn’t sure how long they sat there in silence, listening to the pelting of rain on the roof and window, but both scalding cups of coffee had cooled to warm.   
  
“You should really drink that,” Adam said, pointing to Ronan’s mug.   
  
Ronan automatically lifted the mug to his lips, sipping the dark liquid. Adam did the same. The sugary, pleasantly warm liquid heated his stomach and relaxed his muscles. A warmth passed over him, and he felt sleep tugging at the outer recesses of his mind. He fought it. Ronan needed him.  
  
“Wanna talk about it yet?”   
  
Ronan turned his eyes toward Adam, a shimmer of life behind them again. Adam sighed in relief.   
  
“Nightmare,” Ronan’s voice was thick from disuse, like he had just woken up. Maybe he had.   
  
“It must have been bad.” Adam tentatively touched his hand to Ronan’s wrist. He couldn’t stop touching him. Adam wanted to know he was okay as if his own life depended on it. Ronan closed his eyes and nodded his head, a slight downward shift of his chin. He felt his earlier intensity to destroy what did this to his friend subside slightly. There was nothing to fix. It was just a bad dream.  
  
When he opened his eyes, Adam saw exhaustion. It could have been physical or mental or emotional, even all three. It mirrored his own. Adam took Ronan’s coffee mug in one hand, his in the other, and placed both on the desk. He could clean them in the morning.   
  
“Come to bed.” Adam reached a hand out to Ronan. Ronan placed his hand in Adam’s. Adam wasn’t sure if it was because Ronan was clinging to him for comfort or if more was there, but he didn’t care. Ronan’s grip was cool against Adam’s warm skin, but the pressure was consoling.   
  
Ronan crawled under the thin comforter and pulled the covers up to his shoulders.   
  
Adam rested a hand against Ronan’s shoulder. “Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay. It was just a dream.”   
  
Adam reached over Ronan to get his raggedy pillow and started to walk to the other side of the room to find a spot on the floor to sleep, but Ronan’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist.   
  
“Adam?” Ronan’s voice was shaky, unsteady. “Sleep here. Please.”   
  
The look in Ronan’s eyes was pleading, fearful. Adam’s heart went out to the boy before him.   
  
“You bet,” Adam said placing the pillow on the floor next to the bed. Ronan picked the pillow up without ceremony and tossed it on the mattress next to him. Adam understood.  
  
His heart thudded mercilessly against his sternum as he crawled into bed behind Ronan. Ronan turned over on his side, facing Adam, his blue eyes sad, but more life-like again. As Ronan shifted toward Adam, Adam shifted toward Ronan. Adam thinly smiled. He wasn’t sure if something more than comfort and need was going on here, but it still caused his blood to sing in his veins. An unseen, unheard energy vibrated through his body, like when he was in the Pig and the accelerator was pressed to the floorboard. Adam liked it.   
  
Ronan blinked, his dark lashes making fine crescents over the sharp lines of his cheekbones. Adam couldn’t resist the need to touch Ronan, to soothe him, to reassure himself. He reached out a hand, his palm cupping Ronan’s cheek. Ronan’s breath hitched softly, his eyelashes fluttered, but his eyes didn’t open. Ronan’s hand found a resting spot against Adam’s ribcage, a gentle pressure. It was nothing but two hands resting at very innocent places, not touching anywhere else, but to Adam it felt more intimate than any kiss he had ever had. It ignited feelings Adam never knew he had. Adam leaned his forehead against Ronan’s, their breath mingling.   
  
“Sweet dreams,” Adam whispered as his eyes closed, and he allowed sleep to steal him away.   
  


* * *

  
  
Ronan watched Adam sleep beside him. His fingers felt Adam’s sharp ribs, the steady rhythm of his heart and the rise and fall of his chest. Ronan couldn’t sleep. He didn’t want to. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw exactly what he never wanted to see. He would rather watch the boy before him, the elegantly handsome and long lines of his face, the peaceful way his mouth slacked and his nose twitched and his eyes fluttered. The soft snore. If he closed his eyes, he was scared he would lose him. He didn’t know if he would survive if it happened again, he barely survived the first time.   
  
Ronan’s mind flitted back to what seemed like an eternity ago, even a different universe. Blood and bruises and mud and shovels and dead weight. Ronan shuddered and swallowed a sob. He studied Adam’s face again, erasing the memories.   
  
Ronan knew that Adam would be the one to draw him out of the painful feelings that bombarded his mind and overtook him, slowly encompassing him whole like magnetic putty does a metal cube. It was the exact reason he found himself standing in the rain outside St. Agnes willing Adam to hear him. To see him. Ronan had tried not to bother Adam. He had waited at the Barns, sitting in the BMW, letting time pass, hoping the darkness in his soul would abate, but the emotions only grew stronger, and Ronan felt like a caged animal, suffocating under the heaviness. Selfishly, he knew Adam was where his solace waited.    
  
The apartment at St. Agnes was growing lighter, dawn filtering in through the small window next to the bed. Adam stirred next to him and made a little snort. If Ronan was feeling any better, he would have made relentless fun of Adam, but he was not in the mood for fun. The sleepless night had done little to damper the fear and pain he felt, but Adam’s hand on his neck reassured him. At some point during the night, Adam’s hand slid from his cheek to his neck and grew slack as he fell into sleep. Ronan would never grow tired of watching Adam sleep.   
  
“Hey,” Adam mumbled, his eyes squinting at Ronan.   
  
Ronan made a small smile appear for Adam’s sake.   
  
“Did you sleep at all?” Adam asked, his eyes starting to focus on the world around them.   
  
Ronan shook his head. Adam sighed and pulled himself up, the covers falling around his waist.   
  
“When I get back, we will talk about this Ronan Lynch.” Adam crawled out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom.   
  
Ronan didn’t want to tell Adam anything about the dream, but he was actually worried it would eat him alive from the inside out if he didn’t. This was his burden to carry, but it was too big of a burden to actually carry. Ronan fell back on his back and watched the ceiling fan rotate. How could he tell Adam what he had seen? What had happened? He couldn’t do that to him. Could he? Gansey wouldn’t understand. Ronan could see Gansey’s disapproving stare behind his glasses. Noah probably already knew. Blue was out of the question. That only left Adam, the one person he actually wanted to share this with, but never wanted to.   
  
Ronan was pulled from his thoughts by a flush and splashing water. Adam padded out of the bathroom and back to the bed. He spread out on the bed on his back, his legs spread, toes touching Ronan’s feet. It sent a tingle up his leg.   
  
“Time to talk, Lynch,” Adam said not looking at Ronan.   
  
“I don’t - ” Ronan started.   
  
“No excuses, Ronan. Spill.” The firmness in Adam’s voice surprised Ronan.   
  
“I don’t want to bother you with it.” Ronan had no other idea what to say. He wanted to bother Adam with it. He wanted Adam to help him carry the burden, to relieve the deep ache in his chest, the heaviness in his lungs, the fog in his mind, but at the same time, he wanted to protect Adam, and telling him this was definitely not protecting Adam.   
  
Adam leaned over Ronan’s face, making Ronan look at him. His blue eyes were firm, no nonsense.   
  
“Bother me? This is not about bothering me. This is about you dropping your goddamn stubborn streak and letting someone in for a change. Just do it, Lynch.”   
  
Ronan took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He truly didn’t want to give words to the night. Maybe it would be easier to show Adam. He sat up slowly, shifting out from under Adam’s face. He stood up.  
  
“I’ll show you.” Ronan tossed a random sweatshirt at Adam. “Get dressed.”   
  
Both boys threw on clothes. Adam a pair of faded jeans and the even more faded hoodie Ronan had thrown at him. Ronan  a pair of Adam’s jeans that hung loosely on his narrow hips and the gray T-shirt he slept in. His own clothes were still a muddy, wet mess.  
  
Approaching the BMW Adam shot out his hand. “Keys.”   
  
Ronan almost handed over the keys, but he remembered Adam and the clutch and feared for his car. He couldn’t handle that on top of everything else.   
  
“Nope.” Ronan said, clutching the keys. “I want to drive.”   
  
Adam either remembered the clutch too or didn’t feel like arguing. He climbed into the passenger seat with a flustered sound and a flip of his hand.   
  
“Whatever,” Adam said, but the word held no bite.  
  
Ronan took no joy in driving to the Barns this morning. It was a somber occasion, like a funeral procession curving along the back roads of Henrietta. The boys drove in silence, a frantic change of pace for Ronan. He liked his driving like his music, wild and reckless.   
  
After a while, Adam said, “We can listen to the Murder Squash song, if you want.” He sounded like a little kid offering to share his fries and hoping the other kid would say no. Ronan almost laughed. Almost.   
  
“Nah.”   
  
Adam turned to him, concern painting his features. “Ronan, are you going to be okay?”  
  
“Sure.” Ronan wasn’t so sure. Nausea still roiled through his gut and pain tinged his head. Fog covered his mind. A cold numbness flooded his veins. Ronan wished for fire to burn away the ice. It would make things better. An explosion of dust as concrete disintegrated against a wall, fragments of rock biting his skin; the metal clanging of a bench being kicked over and a red hot throb in his toes; split skin and blood across knuckles after punching a wall. All of these things would be better than the emotional torment rushing over him in great waves.  
  
An hour later, they pulled into the Barns. Ronan parked the BMW outside the farmhouse and shut off the engine. The silence settled around him like an uncomfortable blanket he desperately wanted to shrug off. He contemplated turning on the engine again. The purr was a small comfort. Adam being there with him was a bigger comfort. What lay ahead was anguish.  
  
Ronan glanced at Adam. He was already staring at Ronan.  
  
“What are you going to show me?” Adam asked.   
  
Ronan took a deep breath and pushed open the door. A cool breeze tickled his skin, and the scent of rain and earth and leaves shocked his senses. Ronan could imagine the coppery scent of blood under it all. The Barns had been Ronan’s safe place for as long as he had remembered, but now that safety was hidden and Ronan held back the urge to throw up.   
  
“Come on.”    
  
Ronan led Adam across the fields, mud clinging to their shoes, dew and puddles turning their pant legs wet. The glinting sun turned the green fields golden and both boys had to cover their eyes to see where they were going. The only sound was the swoosh of grass against pants and the occasional call of ravens flying overhead. The boys rounded a red and white barn and toward a lush garden.  
  
“What’s this?” Adam asked, his eyebrows raised in confusion. Adam had been to the Barns many times, but he had never seen the garden.   
  
“Our garden,” Ronan said.   
  
The garden was Ronan’s favorite place in the Barns. Green and gold and red leaves trailed white lattices. Roses the colors of the rainbow climbed high to the sky. The sweet scent of fruit trees and exotic flowers hung heavy in the air. Stone benches carved with Celtic knots dotted the perimeter of the large garden. In the far corner of the immense circular garden was an ancient oak tree, the thick trunk covered in rough bark. A small rope swing hanging from one branch, swayed in the breeze.   
  
The oak was Ronan’s secret hiding place as a child. His favorite place. He would scamper into the branches high enough where Declan couldn’t find him. He would lean back and watch the clouds drift by through the thick expanse of leaves, watching the pale blue sky transform into deep shades of red and purple and then gasp in awe as white pinpricks of stars filled the night sky. He would feed squirrels and try to talk to the birds. He felt at home in the tree. Cabeswater had been calling to him even then.  After last night though, he didn’t want to look at the tree. He wanted to tell Cabeswater to go to hell. He was not just sad, he was mad. Cabeswater had promised to protect him. To protect Adam. He sure as hell didn’t feel protected.   
  
Ronan closed his eyes, feeling the heaviness of Adam’s gaze on him. He didn’t say anything, he just pointed to the tree and sat down on a stone bench, his head heavy in his hands.   
  


* * *

  
  
Adam followed Ronan’s outstretched arm. It pointed at a giant oak tree that looked hundreds of years old. Beneath the tree was a mound of soft dirt, dotted with colors, and something that Adam couldn’t quite see.   
  
“What’s that?” Adam asked. Ronan walked away and sat on an intricately carved stone bench in front of a wall of purple and black roses that smelled faintly of oranges. Ronan bent over, grasping his head in his hands. He was doing better than last night, but Adam was still worried about his friend. He still wanted to fix this, to protect him.   
  
Adam followed the trajectory of Ronan’s arm and approached the tree. At the base of the towering tree, between the giant, buckled roots was a pile of dirt…   
  
No, Adam realized, his own blood turning cold, a grave. Adam blinked a few times. What the hell? Adam thought back to the Ronan double in St. Agnes. The blood and raw cuts. The smell of iron and copper turning his stomach. Adam glanced back at Ronan, his head was still in his hands, his shoulders shuddering slightly.   
  
On top of the muddy mound was a sprinkling of flowers, oranges and reds and yellows, all of Adam’s favorite colors. A black granite marker headed the grave low to the ground. A large tree was carved into the corner of the stone in silver, its long, swaying branches trailing along the borders of the marker, and below it, words:   
  
_Adam Parrish, II_  
 _Friend, Fighter, Magician_  
  
Adam fell to his knees, ignoring the dampness seeping across his skin through his jeans. His fingers threaded through the thick grass. It was a surreal moment. The moment he had feared growing up in the trailer. The moment when he wondered if he would ever leave his home of his own accord, or if his father would put him in a pine box. Adam’s heart constricted in his chest. He gulped for air. Anxiety welled up in him and he fought to keep control. His head swam. Adam reminded himself that he was here. He was alive. He was not in the grave.   
  
He didn’t know how long he sat there, lost in a sea of fears and memories, but a warm grip on his shoulder pulled him back to reality. Adam looked up at Ronan. His cheeks were tear stained. Ronan’s hand reached out and swiped at Adam’s wet cheek. He hadn’t realized he had been crying.   
  
“Now you see?” Ronan asked, his voice was choked with fear and sadness and anger. It was palpable.   
  
Adam nodded, covering Ronan’s hand with his own. Ronan had dreamed him, some nightmare where he had been undoubtedly beaten, bruised and bloodied, dead, and Ronan had brought him out. Adam’s heart clenched at the thought of Ronan waking up with a dream Adam pressed against his chest, cold and lifeless.  
  
“You should have told me sooner, Ronan.” Adam stood, his shoulder leaning against Ronan’s, a slight touch, but a touch that conveyed all the feelings in his heart. Sorrow, pain, sympathy, fierce care.   
  
“I couldn’t,” Ronan said.”Look what this did to you. I was selfish. I still shouldn’t have told you. I shouldn’t have brought you here.”  
  
“Why did you tell me then? Why come to me last night?”   
  
“I’m a selfish bastard.”   
  
“We all know that.” Sarcasm dripped from Adam’s words. “Tell me the real reason you came to me last night.”  
  
Ronan paused, weighing his options.  
  
“It was _you_.” Ronan’s voice was a dream. Adam understood, he had needed Ronan in the same way that last night with his father.     
  
“Tell me about the dream,” Adam said, their shoulders still gently pressed together, looking over the fresh grave.   
  
Ronan shook his head vehemently.   
  
“It was just a dream. I’m still here.” Adam wanted to help Ronan carry this burden, even if it crushed him.   
  
Ronan closed his eyes. “Don’t you get it Adam? I can’t tell you.”  
  
Adam turned to face Ronan, his arms crossed against his chest. “Why?”  
  
Ronan turned away.   
  
“Oh no you don’t!” Adam whirled Ronan back to face him with pull of his arm. “Why?”  
  
Ronan’s eyes blazed. Adam could see the warrior again. He dipped his head close enough to Adam’s that he could feel his breath on his cheek.  
  
“Because dumb ass, I had to bury you,” Ronan shouted, his words harsh and explosive, the warrior woken. “Because you were battered and lifeless.”  
  
Adam remained calm. “How is that different from when you buried your dream double?”  
  
“Because it was you!” His words were laced with things unsaid.   
  
Ronan scrubbed a hand over his face and laced his fingers behind his neck. He looked toward the sky. He was a kerosene laced bomb with a lit fuse. When he looked back, Adam could see the fire in his blue eyes, molten and dangerous, promising.   
  
“Because I -” Ronan’s words stopped abruptly.   
  
He crushed his lips against Adam’s in a fiery explosion of lips and teeth. Adam didn’t resist. He leaned into the embrace, allowing Ronan to steal all the air from his lungs. Allowing him to pour all of his emotions and hidden words into him. Flames flowed from Ronan into Adam, lighting him ablaze. Torching every cell in his body. Igniting every synapse, axon and dendrite. His mind flooded with one word: _Ronan._   
  
As quickly as it started, the kiss stopped, and Adam tried not flinch from the chill he now felt at the distance between them.  
  
Adam went still.  
  
Ronan went still.   
  
The kiss hung in the air like a thousand unspoken words.   
  
It played on repeat in Adam’s mind. He was under its spell. Adam couldn’t move. He watched Ronan look away from him and toward the sky, his chest barely moving. Time slowed until it stopped. All that remained was the feel of Ronan’s lips and hands on Adam’s skin. The scent of Ronan lingering around him. The way Ronan’s arms felt under his hands…  
  
Then time started up again, moving rapidly, as Ronan dropped his arms, looked at Adam, his face unreadable, and turned on his heels, stomping toward the BMW.   
  
Adam barely had time to react, his senses still a jumbled mess.  
  
“Ronan!” Adam called after him. Ronan kept striding to the BMW.   
  
Adam ran, pumping his arms, feeling the cool morning air glide over his skin. He closed the distance between Ronan and himself, grasping his elbow, forcing Ronan to stop.   
  
“Ronan.” Adam gasped for breath. “Ronan.”   
  
Ronan wrenched his arm out from under Adam’s grasp and kept walking, the lines of his body rigid and uninviting. Adam couldn’t help thinking about how much Ronan had been through. Adam watched him walk away, his gut wrenched knowing this time it was his fault, knowing it was all his fault.   
  
“Ronan! Stop! Please!” Adam yelled after him.   
  
Ronan shook his head.   
  
“Damn you!” Adam took off running after him again. This time Adam didn’t stop until he slid around Ronan forming a barrier between him and the car.   
  
“Move.” Any earlier vulnerability was gone.   
  
“No.” Adam stood firm before Ronan, his heart pounding against his ribcage.   
  
“Parrish,” Ronan warned.   
  
“No.” Adam repeated, narrowing his eyes.   
  
“Fuck, Parrish.” Ronan took a deep intake of breath, cracks appearing on his stone exterior.   
  
Adam didn’t know what this was. What Adam did know was that he cared for Ronan. He cared for Ronan more than he cared for Gansey or Noah or Blue, or even himself. He hated to see Ronan hurt and he wanted to protect him, comfort him. He knew that Ronan’s fingertips on his ribs made him crazy. He knew the way Ronan looked at him, like he wanted to devour him, made his blood boil and nerves sing. He knew that his kiss had knocked him so pleasantly off his center of gravity that he knew there was nothing else he wanted more than Ronan.   
  
Adam stepped closer to Ronan. Ronan stopped breathing. Adam never turned from Ronan’s blue eyes. They looked alive and alight with burning emotions. Adam’s hands slid up Ronan’s biceps, the muscles tense. Adam didn’t think. He closed the distance, brushing his lips over Ronan’s, a gentle caress, a reminder of a promise - _I’m here_. Ronan exhaled as Adam leaned back.  
  
“If you would just stop and listen to me for a minute you stubborn dumb ass.” Adam pressed another kiss to Ronan’s lips. Ronan let him.   
  
Ronan pulled back this time, his words venomous. “I don’t need your pity.”  
  
Adam rolled his eyes, his voice rigid. “Really, Ronan? You know how I feel about pity. _This_ is not pity.”  
  
“What is it then?” Ronan narrowed his eyes, a dark eyebrow arching, questioning and suspicious.   
  
Shaking his head, Adam said, “It’s me caring about you shit head. Just let me for a change.”   
  
Ronan exhaled and dipped his chin to his chest, trying to hide his crumbling features. Ronan had been through so much in one night, Adam was sure the toll had been taken.   
  
Adam stepped closer again, pressing a kiss against Ronan’s sharp cheekbones.   
  
“Are you going to let me in?”  
  
Ronan nodded. Adam wrapped his arms around Ronan, hands splayed across his spine. Ronan stepped into the embrace and buried his face in the crook of Adam’s neck. He smelled of mist and moss and something spicy and warm.   
  
Adam ran his hands up and down Ronan’s back, whispering in his ear, “I told you that I was here. I’m here. I’m not leaving.”   
  
Ronan pulled back, blinking back tears, and glided his lips across Adam’s. The kiss was soft and sweet, conveying gratitude and security and silent words.  
  
“I’m ready to tell you if you still want to hear,” Ronan whispered against Adam’s lips.   
  
Adam slid a hand over Ronan’s jaw. “Only when you’re positively ready. I’m here to help you carry this burden. Don’t do it by yourself. Promise me?”   
  
“Promise,” Ronan said.   
  
 

* * *

  
  
The drive back to St. Agnes was more pleasant than the drive leaving. The rain had stopped and the sun was high in the sky now, painting everything in gold and pink. The weight in Ronan’s chest had lifted and he could breathe deeply again. He wasn’t sure if it had anything to do with knowing Adam wouldn’t leave him alone in this, or if it was because he had kissed Adam, or if it was because Adam had kissed him back. All Ronan knew was that he felt lighter and more like himself.   
  
Ronan maneuvered the BMW to almost reckless speeds, letting the tires hug the asphalt and careen around corners. Adam sat in the passenger seat, glancing toward Ronan, his lips turned up in a shy smile. Adam reached forward and turned up the music. Ronan let the beat wash over him, pulling him further out of his mind.   
  
At St. Agnes, Ronan pulled the BMW into a parking spot, weariness of sleep starting to tug at his mind, and turned off the car. Adam turned to Ronan and grinned. He then climbed out of the car, putting one hand on the roof, bending back into the car to look at Ronan.   
  
“Come on, Lynch.”   
  
Ronan couldn’t help but smile. How could he have thought his worst nightmare could have made his favorite dream manifest? He was still shaken by the previous night’s events, but with every touch and smile and reassuring glance, Ronan was letting the pain of it wash away and be replaced by the newness of this miracle. Ronan slid from behind the wheel of the BMW and followed Adam to his apartment.   
  
Once inside the door, Adam hugged Ronan. His hands slid over his shoulders and locked behind his neck. His hands gripping the back of his head pulled Ronan forward into the embrace. Ronan let him. The warmth radiating from Adam’s body melted the tension in his own muscles and the faint scent of gasoline and soap tangled his senses. Ronan slid his hands over Adam’s back, rubbing muscles pulled tight over bones.  
  
“Do you have to go to work today?” Ronan asked, his lips grazing Adam’s temple.   
  
“Nope. I finally have a day off.” Adam’s breath tickled Ronan’s ear. “Are you tired?”   
  
“I could sleep,” Ronan answered. His body was worn out from physical exhaustion and lack of sleep. His mind, though calmer and clearer, still felt fuzzy.   
  
Adam pulled back, taking Ronan’s hand, guiding him to the bed. Ronan slid onto the mattress, kicking off his shoes. The sheets smelled of Adam and were cool against his skin. Ronan sighed, his body relaxing further, and smiled at Adam.   
  
“Thank you,” Ronan muttered before sleep overtook him.   
  
*****  
  
When Ronan woke, Adam was sitting next to him, calculus book propped on his knees, a studious expression on his face causing his forehead to wrinkle, and a pencil furiously swishing on paper. Ronan watched as the filtered sunlight softened the lines of Adam’s face and bleached his hair. He was so handsome, it hurt Ronan to look at him, but he couldn’t stop studying his features. The slope of his nose and forehead. The hollowed out cheeks and strong line of his jaw. The delicate curve of his lips. The way his pale eyelashes fluttered against his tan skin.   
  
Ronan’s sleep had been dreamless, peaceful. His body calm and rested, mirrored his mind. Last night seemed like a far off dream. A dream people looked back on and wondered why it was so terrifying, but Ronan reminded himself, because it was Adam. Knowing what he knew, he also didn’t want to waste a single minute with Adam. Ronan would cherish every second they spent together. He just wanted to put the nightmare of last night behind him.  
  
Adam blew out of gust of air in frustration, sitting down his textbook, hanging his head.  
  
“The numbers got you stumped, Parrish?” Ronan asked, a sly smile spreading across his face, feeling more and more like himself.   
  
Adam looked over at him, being shaken from a daze of equations and data, and sighed. “I hate to admit it, but yeah, they do.”   
  
Ronan stretched with a groan and lifted off the mattress, sliding closer to Adam. He placed a hand on his knee. “You’ll get it Einstein, but in the meantime…” Ronan trailed off, closing the distance between them with a kiss.   
  
Adam responded immediately. Their lips intertwined in a soft, slow waltz. Ronan ran the tip of his tongue across Adam’s bottom lip and the tempo flared. Adam opened his mouth, inviting Ronan in. Their tongues tangled, sliding across teeth and lips, unleashing small sounds of pleasure.   
  
Ronan smiled, sincere and happy, against Adam’s lips, his head resting against his forehead, noses touching. Adam ran a hand over Ronan’s ear, gently tugging at his earlobe, and Ronan chuckled.   
  
“What do you want to do today?” Ronan asked. He felt Adam’s lips curl against his, but instead of kissing him again, Adam leaned back. Adam’s blue eyes held happiness with a touch of sorrow.  
  
“Anything you want,” Adam paused, eyes distant. “But, first tell me about the dream.”     
  
Ronan groaned, flopping back on the bed. “I thought you were going to let that go.” He added with a dangerously wicked smirk, “I’m feeling much better now. We have much more pleasant things to focus on.”   
  
“Ronan,” Adam said, his voice solid and unwavering.   
  
“Why?” Ronan asked. “It was hard enough to go through once. Why can’t we just put it behind us, Adam?”   
  
Adam closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, his shoulders rising to his jaw. His voice was quiet when he spoke. “Because, I need to know.”   
  
Adam’s eyes shimmered with restrained tears. Ronan sighed in defeat. His nightmare was Adam’s nightmare. Adam had no idea how close Ronan’s nightmare was Adam’s. Ronan ripped himself from the bed, stomping to the bathroom. He splashed water on his face, his mind warring. Should he tell Adam? Should he protect him? He knew Adam was a fighter, but was he strong enough to endure this?   
  
_Loquere ad eum._  
  
 _Tell him._   
  
Cabeswater usually only spoke to Adam outside the confines of the mystical woods, but there were times when the trees called to the Greywaren. Ronan rolled his eyes.   
  
“You would pick this situation to show up for,” Ronan snarled. “If you want this, then you do it.”   
  
Annoyance toward Cabeswater still swirled within Ronan.   
  
_Nos magus._   
  
Ronan dropped his head. If Cabeswater wanted him to bring it Adam, he would, but he wouldn’t like it. He stomped back to the small living area and found Adam standing in the middle of the room, swinging Ronan’s keys around a finger, his calculus textbook long forgotten on the bed.   
  
“Let’s go,” Adam said, heading toward the door.   
  
Ronan gave him a look that asked, _What the hell?_   
  
Adam laughed, a small _Ha_! “Cabeswater likes to talk.”   
  
Ronan groaned again, defeated by the two largest forces in his life. “Dicks.” He followed Adam out of the apartment, adding grouchily, “I’m driving.”  
  


* * *

  
  
Adam wrenched his hands back and forth in his lap. Cabeswater sat before them. Adam could feel the thrumming of the ley line beneath his skin. It called to him.   
  
“You don’t have to do this. We could go to Nino’s, piss off Blue, hide some of Gansey’s books, throw Noah over a bridge or something. That sounds much more promising than this.” Ronan turned off the BMW, his hands still gripping the steering wheel ready to go at any hesitation on Adam’s part. “Yeah, let’s do that instead.” He reached for the keys.  
  
Adam got out of the car. With a huff, Ronan followed. They both knew it was a nonnegotiable if Cabeswater wanted this.   
  
The day was a cool, breezy and bright, but once inside the borders of Cabeswater, the sun faded and stars peeked through the leafy, still branches around them.   
  
_Greywaren. Magician._  
  
“Fuck the small talk Cabeswater. Let’s do this damn shit so we can move on.”   
  
Adam could see the unease in Ronan’s stance, the slight hunch to his shoulders, a muscle twitching at his clenched jaw.   
  
_Ambulate._  
  
A small path of shimmering blue and green pebbles appeared before them.   
  
“Follow the yellow brick road,” Ronan muttered, his face looking like he smelled something rancid. “Where’s the damn munchkins? There better be a wish at the end of this goddamn-forsaken road.”   
  
Adam tugged at the sleeve of Ronan’s shirt. “Come on, ass.”   
  
Adam wasn’t sure what he was going to see, but from the way Ronan was broken earlier and how Adam knew Ronan’s mind worked, it was going to be bad. He braced himself.   
  
The path led them through the night between large trees. Strange people-like creatures with elongated faces and empty eyes, animals that would never exist outside these woods, animals with wings and horns and scales, looking more human than animal watched them trek by, peeking out from behind tree trunks and low lying brush. The thrumming under Adam’s skin intensified, magnifying his anxiousness.   
  
They entered a clearing, here the night darker, intense and powerful.   
  
_Ronan’s mind._   
  
His fingers found Ronan’s, gripping them tightly. Ronan shuddered slightly beneath his touch.   
  
“Let’s do this.” Ronan didn’t sound convincing.   
  
They pressed into the darkness, unable to see even each other, only the certain pressure of fingertips letting them know that they hadn’t both been absorbed by the palpable darkness.   
  
“Ronan?” Adam asked, though he could feel his hand, there was no response.   
  
The scent of hard liquor wafted through the air. Adam’s stomach roiled. Memories of his father coursed through his mind. He wanted to huddle on the ground until it all went away.   
  
“Ronan?” Adam called again. He could hear the panic in his own voice. “Damn it Ronan! Answer me!”  
  
Ronan didn’t answer. A column of light cascaded down from the trees, a soft, buttery light, and in it Ronan stood. He was as savagely handsome as ever. Every inch of him poised for a fight: The sharp lines of his face harsh and hardened, his stance tense, his lips twisted into a snarl, and cold eyes ready for war. Adam wanted to run to him, hide from the memories, but he knew it wasn’t his Ronan, because Adam could still feel Ronan’s hand in his own. This must be the dream. Cabeswater took him into Ronan’s dream. Adam cursed his curiosity and Cabeswater’s meddling.  
  
The light expanded to show the source of the hard liquor stench. Robert Parrish, looking larger than ever, sat at Adam’s old kitchen table, a shot glass before him, an almost empty bottle of whiskey next to it. His eyes were bloodshot and angry.   
  
“Adam! Get your lazy, no good, selfish ass in here!” Robert yelled, his words slurring, pouring himself another drink.   
  
A chill traveled up Adam’s spine. This happened more times than not in reality.   
  
Dream Adam came running into the kitchen, slightly breathless. “Yes sir?”   
  
Adam could hear the fear in his voice. His stomach clenched. Muscle memory.   
  
“What the fuck is that?” Robert Parrish pointed to a stack of dirty dishes on the counter next to the sink, then tossed back the amber-colored liquid in one gulp.   
  
Dream Adam’s eyes went wide, his mouth dropped open. “I’m sorry. I forgot about doing the dishes. I’ll get right to them.” He rushed to the sink and started soaping and scrubbing and drying.  
  
Adam hated himself in that moment. He hated the way he cowered before his father. He hated how he forgot to do the dishes. He hated how he ran to clean the dishes. He hated that Ronan saw him this way.  
  
“Your mother works hard around here boy.”  
  
Dream Adam ducked his head at the sound of the kitchen chair scrapping across the tiled floor.  
  
“I work my ass off all day to put a roof over your head.” Robert Parrish was standing next to Dream Adam now.   
  
Adam knew that the other Adam could smell the sour, alcohol on his father’s breath and both of their stomachs churned and the hair on the back of their necks stood on end. Dream Adam flinched as his father clamped a hand on the back of his neck.   
  
“What do you do boy?” His father’s voice was low, dangerous, his breath hot against Dream Adam’s right ear. Adam blinked back hot tears. He knew what was coming.   
  
“You do nothing, that’s what. You can’t even remember to clean the fucking dishes.” Robert’s grip tightened on Dream Adam’s neck. “You’re ungrateful. A bastard.”  Adam could feel the pressure on his own neck, more memory than reality. Ronan gripped his hand tighter. For a second Adam wondered if Ronan was seeing the same sight.  
  
In a whirl, Robert Parrish twisted Dream Adam around to face him, his breath suffocating on his face. Adam watched as his double tried to keep a blank face.  
  
“You’re no good, you hear me boy? You’re a mongrel. Good for nothing, but kicking around.” His father’s voice was thick, his tongue tripping over itself, the Henrietta accent deeply coloring each word.   
  
With a twist of his hand, Robert Parrish threw Dream Adam to the tiled floor of their trailer, kicking him once in the gut, a violent movement that forced Dream Adam to grunt and double up into a ball. Dream Ronan watched with a predatory glance. He kept taking steps forward, but an invisible barrier blocked him, like a caged panther.  
  
“Fight like a man!” His father was a ball of white hot anger. “Oh that’s right, you’re a fucking dog. You should have died before you ever saw this world.”   
  
In a flurry of movement, Robert gripped Dream Adam’s shirt, ripping it in the process, exposing his chest, and yanked him to his feet. He jerked Adam to his face, spittle flinging onto Dream Adam’s face.   
  
“I wish you _had_ died.” The words stung both Adams, and like a hurricane falling upon land, Robert Parrish began to unleash his anger.   
  
Adam watched in horror as his father kicked and punched Dream Adam without restraint, never stopping, his face full of rage. Adam couldn’t turn away from the scene before him. From his peripheral vision, he could see Dream Ronan pounding his fists against the invisible barrier, kicking at it with all his might. His mouth twisted into a roar. If he could have heard Ronan, Adam was certain that a string of profanity capable of making the devil blush was streaming from his mouth.  
  
“Stop.” Adam tried to yell, but his voice came out in a choked whisper.  
  
Dream Adam absorbed every blow silently. Tears streaming down his cheeks, blood seeping from busted skin, red welts peppering his tan skin. With a sickening thud, Robert Parrish smashed Dream Adam’s head against the corner of the kitchen counter. Dream Adam’s body went limp, falling to the floor, crimson liquid pooling under him, matting his dusty hair and staining it pink.   
  
It was then that Dream Ronan was released from his prison. He burst forth into the kitchen with a savage scream, grasping the front of Robert Parrish’s shirt and flinging him to the floor. His feet, steel-toed, brutally kicking at the figure before him. Anytime the man tried to get off the floor, Ronan would throw a solid punch at him, knocking him back again.   
  
“I will kill you, you son of a bitch.” Ronan growled, his feet and fists still flying in the direction of Robert Parrish.   
  
Ronan’s hand grew clammy in Adam’s. Adam tightened his grasp on Ronan. They were together, there for each other. Each other’s strength and constant. Better together than apart. The sentiment rolled around in Adam’s mind.  
  
Dream Ronan kept kicking until Robert Parrish sprawled on the kitchen floor, still, silent, gasping for air. Dream Ronan stopped and stood still, his chest heaving, gasping for air, his hands balled into tight fists at his side. His eyes were wild, on fire, deadly.   
  
Dream Ronan turned to where Dream Adam unceremoniously lie on the tile floor. He dropped to his knees, his pants inching into the puddle of blood. His hands shakily hovered over Dream Adam, like he didn’t know where to touch him, or if he could touch him. His face contorted in pain and suffering. He placed a palm against Dream Adam’s chest, over his heart, then slid two fingers to his neck right under his jaw. His mouth dropped open, as if to scream, but nothing came out. His eyes shot back and forth. Dream Ronan bent over Adam’s lifeless body, covering it. He pulled Adam up against his chest, rocking him back and forth, smoothing his hands over Adam’s hair, paying no attention to the blood. Dream Ronan’s lips quivered, tears welling in his eyes below furrowed eyebrows.   
  
“Adam,” Dream Ronan whispered hoarsely. “Wake up.” Dream Adam did not respond.   
  
Dream Ronan’s hands trailed over his face and neck, touching each bruise that was beginning to bloom. He gently kissed each bruise and cut, whispering things neither Adam could hear. He continued hugging Adam’s body against him, rocking gently, until the edges of the scene shifted, wavering, turning to mist, until only the darkness remained.  
  
Adam stared into the darkness, the only grounding force, Ronan’s hand in his. He reached up to touch his own face, where a dark red-purple bruise had spread across Dream Adam’s face. His cheeks were wet. When had he started crying? He was frozen. He now understood why Ronan was so distraught when he showed up at St. Agnes twenty-four hours ago. He could only imagine what it would have been like waking with Dream Adam’s lifeless body in his arms and then have to bury him all alone.   
  
_Lonesome_.  
  
Adam’s heart went out to Ronan. He was so strong to have endured so much in his short life.  
  
Adam blew out a weak breath. “God.”   
  
The darkness faded, revealing the blue-green pebbled path, and towering trees. The stars from earlier were replaced with soft sunlight. Ronan stood next to Adam again, his face paler than usual. Adam could feel his pulse rocketing against his wrist, it mirrored his own.   
  
“You see?” Ronan asked. He was stronger than last night, but Adam could hear the distress in his voice.   
  
Adam nodded, but didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. He only burrowed his head in the crook of Ronan’s neck, letting his warmth wash the nightmare away. Ronan’s arms encircled his back, hands gently moving up and down his spine. Adam exhaled slowly, his heart starting to slow.   
  
Above them ravens darted in and out of rustling tree branches, cawing noisily.   
  
_Vos duo pertinent simul._  
  
 _You belong together._  
  
 _Simul non resisti potest._  
  
 _Together, you cannot be stopped._  
  
 _Dederunt spatio inter is only perditionem._  
  
 _Apart there is only destruction._   
  
“Really Cabeswater?” Ronan spit. “I had no idea. How stupid of me.” Adam could feel the vibrations of his voice against his cheek. It felt nice, comforting.   
  
Ronan gently pulled Adam away from him, just enough to look into his eyes.   
  
“You gonna survive, Parrish?” The words were gentle. Ronan’s fierceness, Adam realized, extended both into anger and love.   
  
Adam nodded again. “Yeah,” he croaked out. “That was too close for comfort.”  
  
Ronan exhaled in understanding, Adam didn’t have to elaborate any more. “That never would have happened, Adam. You’re too much of a fighter.”   
  
Adam hugged Ronan again, unable to hide the smile on his face. Adam always fought in his own way, he thought it was in vain, but it felt good to hear someone acknowledge it.   
  
Adam pulled back, his arms still around Ronan’s neck, his body shaky, his mind foggy, but ready to put this all behind him, just as Ronan had suggested earlier.   
  
“Enough emotional shit. What were you saying earlier about Nino’s and pranking Gansey?”   
  
“Actually it was Nino’s, fucking with Blue, then fucking with Gansey, and my favorite, launching Noah into the river.” Ronan’s smile was wickedly mischievous, a spark in his molten blue eyes.  “You game, Parrish?”  
  
Adam’s smile matched Ronan’s, a little distraction would be good for both of them.   
  
“You better believe it. I’m starving. No crazy ass pizza toppings though.”  
  
“Oh come on Parrish, that’s the best part.” They walked toward the BMW, Ronan’s arm slung over his shoulders. “Tell me an avocado, bacon, peanut butter pizza doesn’t sound good right now.”   
  
Adam gagged, scrunching up his nose. “Gross. Remind me to never let you order for me ever.” Ronan laughed.  
  
“Like you would let me.” Ronan knocked his head against Adam’s, a loving gesture.  
  
Both boys laughed, and all around them Cabeswater laughed too. 


End file.
